The Call Of Duty
by Galfridus
Summary: Zeldris and Gelda meet for the first time. Too bad the situation has arisen against their will.
1. Chapter 1

A/N Written for Lickitysplit's first date Valentine's challenge.

 **The Call Of Duty**

Eyes narrowed, fists clenched at this sides, Zeldris glowered at his brother, hatred rolling from him in waves. Meliodas was smiling, taking enjoyment in his predicament, as if the ignominy of his position was not sufficient on its own. But Zeldris was not the rising star of the demon clan for nothing, and with difficulty he forced his face to assume a neutral expression. No point in giving his brother any opening for chastisement.

"Can you please explain this to me?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly with anger despite his best efforts. "You are the crown prince and the heir. Surely this duty falls to you and not me."

"You could argue that," Meliodas said breezily, examining his nails as he spoke. "But there's no way I'm going to put myself through this, and his majesty agrees. He always does. So the task is now yours. When you get to be as powerful as me then maybe you can delegate as well." The unspoken 'that will never happen' hung in the air, causing Zeldris to clench his teeth in frustration. Try as he might he could not make his power rise to the level his brother commanded, and Zeldris was nothing if not industrious.

"And come on, it won't be _that_ bad," Meliodas added, his cruel eyes betraying his lie. "She is a reported beauty, you know. Just go and make the best of it."

"If she's so attractive, why not send Estarossa?" Zeldris asked petulantly, unable to stem the rising tide of resentment. "He likes that kind of thing…"

"That is exactly the problem." Meliodas's smile curved up the side of his face, his mark bleeding along his forehead. "Our brother is… let's say a little too fond of the fairer sex for this task. We need to keep the young lady's family on side, and Estarossa's antics are hardly likely to help us achieve this objective. You on the other hand," Meliodas looked Zeldris up and down deliberately as he said this, "can be relied upon for your discretion. I don't think you'll even touch her."

"You are right about that!" Zeldris agreed vehemently. "I can promise you she will get nothing from me…"

"Which is precisely why I chose you for this job," Meliodas said cruelly. "We don't want anything embarrassing to happen. She is well known for her ability to seduce whoever she wants to; her title is The Thousand Temptations. So don't give her the satisfaction of victory. Oh, and Zeldris," Meliodas called as his younger brother made his way with ill grace to the door, "you need to — how shall I put this — dress for the occasion. You can hardly go to dinner as if preparing for battle. Wear something _appropriate_."

With his back to Meliodas, Zeldris stiffened with shock and rage, before striding towards the door at an extremely fast pace, flinging it open with serious force. Once in the corridors of the demon king's castle, his feet treading the luxurious red carpet trimmed with gold braid, he let his expression slide to one of murderous hate, causing the few servants going about their duties to scurry quickly out of his way. The sight gave him some satisfaction, until he remembered the reason for his just anger. He was going to go to dinner with the vampire princess — alone — completely against his will, and would have to be _courteous_ of all things while trying to avoid her making a pass at him. Well, Meliodas had misjudged him there: whatever he had been told to do, he was not going to give Izraf's no doubt spoiled brat of a daughter any indication that she was more than the annoyance she was.

After travelling down innumerable practically identical hallways lined with vast oil paintings and oversized suits of armour, Zeldris finally reached his chambers and slammed the door behind him. Fists clenched at his sides, he strode to the wardrobe in search of formal attire. Why did he let his brother get away with these humiliating orders? So what if he was powerful? So what if he had their father's ear? Meliodas was not the king yet, and only out-ranked him by a little. Still, Zeldris knew that he was in no position to ignore a direct order from his eldest brother, no matter how much he truly wished to. With a disgusted impatience for his ordeal to be over, he started to prepare for his unwanted fate.

* * *

The room selected for his evening's torture was absolutely enormous, clearly chosen to show off the wealth of the kingdom rather than provide an intimate atmosphere. So much the better, Zeldris thought to himself as he surveyed the ceiling, skillfully painted with scenes of the demon realm's splendour, the vibrant greens and golds glowing in the light of a grand chandelier and the orange blaze which crackled in the marble fireplace below. The smell of burning cedar wood was almost comforting and, without realising, Zeldris began to relax in the warmth of the fire, his shoulders dropping slightly as his eyes followed the flames. It was only a few hours after all; it would be over almost as soon as it had begun.

"This is a beautiful room," a melodious voice sounded behind him and Zeldris whipped round in an instant, inwardly cursing himself for letting his guard down. He surreptitiously stretched out his powers to examine the girl in front of him and was surprised to find she was not precisely deficient. Nothing to match him or his brothers of course, but neither was she to be dismissed out of hand. His eyes travelled up her blue silk dress to her face and he recoiled slightly in shock; Meliodas had said she was attractive but he hadn't primed him for _this_. The lady was objectively beautiful, her features almost perfectly symmetrical and her bright golden hair tied in a perfect twist at the side of her head. She looked neat, ordered, regal. Then his eyes met hers and Zeldris immediately revised his opinion: she was hiding it well with a dazzling smile but he had learned to read the merest flickers of expression working alongside Meliodas. It was plain from the cold look in the very depths of her eyes that the lady had absolutely no wish to be there.

"Will you kindly introduce yourself to me?" she finally simpered into the silence. "Though I know you by reputation of course, prince Meliodas."

Zeldris felt the last of his already short temper fray and then snap as his teeth ground together, and he allowed himself the luxury of biting the inside of his cheek. In an instant, he saw it all and vowed to make Meliodas pay for his game. "You asked for him specifically, did you?" he said stiffy, doing his best not to let his darkness take over the room. "Well, I will have to disappoint you. I am not Meliodas."

"Oh!" The young lady took an involuntary step backwards as Zeldris's coal black eyes stared into hers. "But you look… I thought…"

"I know exactly what you thought, Thousand Temptations," Zeldris spat as he sneered at the girl, whose lip was now quivering slightly. "You were sent here to seduce my brother and so secure the tentative alliance between our clans, which benefits you vampires far more than it does us. Or perhaps you wanted him and his power on your own account. Either way, your trick has failed. Meliodas saw right through it and so do I. Now you have to deal with me. And I promise you, I will not fall prey to your wiles."

"And why would I want you to?" the girl answered hotly, all pretence at civility completely gone as she returned Zeldris's stare. "You're his brother you say. So you're what… the second son? Maybe even the third? Not worth getting out of bed for, let alone using my powers on." Her words caused a warm flush to run up Zeldris's spine and into the roots of his hair. Rarely had he been so furious with another who was not a member of his immediate family.

"So you don't even deny it? Disgusting. How many others have you whored yourself to like this?" he snarled, hoping to hurt the girl as much as she had hurt him. "You think Meliodas would dream of touching you, amidst all the filth you have consorted with before? Though obviously you were not good enough to turn any of your poor suitors into actual husbands. Maybe your powers need some remedial work."

That did it. The girl's alabaster cheeks suddenly flared pink and she took several steps towards him, her expression one of absolute hatred. "How _dare_ you speak to me like that?" the girl seethed, her voice deathly quiet. "I am the crown princess of Edinburgh, the future queen of the vampires. And you are nothing. You will never rule, never amount to anything. Perhaps your brother will let you lead the army or something. All you are good for is cannon fodder."

"At least I have my dignity intact," Zeldris said haughtily as he continued to stare at his opponent. Part of him was beginning to enjoy this, it was like being on the training field, but the rest of him was fuming. "You — clearly — would do anything, including debasing yourself, to achieve what? A little extra glory for your ridiculous clan? Is that all your modesty is worth to you?"

"I don't ask for this!" the girl practically yelled, her voice echoing off the walls of the room. "I would rather do anything else, but I do as I'm told. Maybe duty means nothing to you but to my, did you say _ridiculous_ , clan public service is paramount. I am a _king's_ daughter. I do what I have to to serve my people, no matter what the personal cost to myself. And you are right, the alliance is a little one-sided and needs shoring up. Evidently this is not something you can understand. It must be nice being nothing but a playboy prince."

Through his anger, Zeldris thought about this. He was of course here against his will too, and had done any number of things he was not particularly proud of, all in the name of following orders. Stealth attacks on the humans for instance. Why bother with that? It was beneath his race and if it was not it was sure as hell beneath him. He knew the girl was not lying when she said she was not standing in front of him by choice. When all was said and done was he really much better than her?

"Look, we have two options," the girl said more calmly and she took a deep breath, causing her chest to rise and fall rather enticingly and Zeldris was more than annoyed with himself for following the movement. "We can go on like this, back and forth, until a suitable interval has passed and we can rejoin our respective clans," she continued. "Or we can try and pass the evening in a manner which better befits our stations and I can report that, although my mission has failed, your clan at least showed me some cordiality. That should stop any unpleasantness which might otherwise follow. I will let you choose."

"Fine," Zeldris snapped, seeing the lie of the land. "By all means, let us do it your way, on condition that you keep your powers to yourself. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly. As I said before I have absolutely no desire to use them," the girl said serenely as she smoothed down the front of her dress. "Don't flatter yourself."

It was rare that anyone other than Meliodas or Estarossa answered back to him and Zeldris was still in shock when the girl's voice, now in a more agreeable timbre, sounded once more into the room. "I really am sorry about before," she said gently, almost contritely. "What is your name? I need to address you as something for the rest of the evening."

"I'm Zeldris. The third one," he replied with a bite to his tone, still showing his temper. Although he would never admit it to anyone she had truly riled him. "And what am I to call you, Thousand Temptations?"

"Gelda will be fine," she said smoothly, the beginnings of what looked to be a genuine smile curving over her lips. "I must say it's rather nice in a way to be spoken to like a person rather than an ornament, even though you were impossibly rude. It's a bit more interesting than the usual nonsense."

"Well I could say the same to you," Zeldris said grudgingly. "Not that that's an apology. You deserved everything I said to you."

"Not all of it. My powers do not need remedial work. They are in excellent shape. If I wanted to, and I really don't want to, I could make you mine in a matter of minutes. Yes, even you," Gelda said with a chuckle as Zeldris blanched slightly. "So you're very lucky I choose to play fair."

"How do they work, you powers I mean?" Zeldris asked, allowing his curiosity to get the better of him. As if reading the room, which they probably were, two servants took advantage of the detente to enter, ushering the pair to a table in the centre of the room covered in a pristine white tablecloth and dispensing drinks once the couple were seated. Zeldris noted with some acerbity that Gelda was served with blood, no doubt from one of the many humans he and his comrades had snuck up on earlier that day.

"What an interesting question, people never ask," Gelda said with something approaching enthusiasm. "It's a form of mind control. I can make my subject do, think or say whatever I choose, but it doesn't create real feeling underneath. I have to keep applying my powers for sustained behaviour change. Doable, but a little on the tedious side. A thousand temptations is not really a fair description of what I do but it's the one given to my magic by outsiders. I suppose it looks that way to the casual observer given the orders I am expected to carry out."

"I see. That's actually more deadly than I imagined," Zeldris said appreciatively, his eyes alight with interest, "assuming you can do all you say, of course."

"There's no need for me to lie, I have no desire to impress you," Gelda said smoothly. She leaned back slightly in her ornately carved chair to allow an unobtrusive servant to place the folded napkin into her lap, Zeldris doing the same as a delicious smell wafted into the room, followed by two servants returning with covered plates. The metal domes were removed by the servants with a flourish before they took their leave after a signal from Zeldris. He stared at the soup in front of him with disdain: he rarely ate, not properly like this, usually relying on dried strips of dragon meat hastily munched between missions, and the blatant indulgence did not sit at all easily with him.

"You're uncomfortable with this, and it's not because of me, well not only because of me at any rate. Why is that?" Gelda asked, her deep blue eyes examining him closely and despite his best efforts Zeldris felt himself being captivated by her slight smile. He decided to give her an honest reply.

"It's a waste of time, this sort of thing. There's a war to win. The goddesses are not going to annihilate themselves, more's the pity." Zeldris looked more closely at Gelda's clothing as she started to eat, taking in the delicate beading along the sleeves of her gown and, for goodness sake, were those diamonds? What an absolutely abhorrent use of resources. The vampires were wealthy of course, that was the reason for this irritating alliance, but the money could surely be better spent on developing weapons.

Gelda, noticing his scrutiny and glowering expression, let forth a tinkling laugh, the sound sliding along the back of Zeldris's neck, causing shivers to flow down his spine. She was genuinely captivating, he had to admit, and that it was done without her intent caused him some disquiet. "You have to remember my clan thought it was Meliodas I was to spend time with this evening," Gelda said as she shook her sleeves mischievously. "I agree it's over the top, but we pulled out all the stops. This alliance is valuable to us. We left nothing to chance."

"Except whether or not he would show up," Zeldris said with a chuckle as he met Gelda's eyes. "That was sloppy of you."

"It was rather," Gelda admitted, her rueful smile genuine. "Bad tactics on our part not to anticipate a substitution. My father will be furious but there it is, nothing to be done. I can hardly drag the second-most powerful demon in existence into this room and force him to talk to me. And bringing him with magic, against his will, would be too much of a strain, even for me. Your brother's combat class is legendary."

"So there are limits to your power," Zeldris said triumphantly, his eyes flashing in the light of the fire. Once again, the servants entered the room, removing the empty dishes from the table, carefully angling their bodies so as to cause as little disturbance as possible. A skill in a way, Zeldris observed. He appreciated good work, whatever its station.

"Of course. As I am sure there are limits to yours," Gelda said gently. "It's all rumour of course but though your middle brother and you are reputedly powerful you are said not to share Meliodas's level of skill."

"True enough, for now," Zeldris said with a practiced ease. He was used to delivering this particular answer. "But there is time yet. When I'm not caught up in this sort of ridiculous enterprise I'm fighting or training. It's only a matter of time before my power augments. There is no way I have reached the limit of my potential."

"Now that's an intriguing response, I thought you'd be cross. I would have been in your place I am sure." Gelda smiled up at the servant as he approached the table carrying another covered plate which he set before her. The conversation paused while they had company, Zeldris allowing the pair to conclude their business and leave the room before he continued.

"You get used to it," he said smoothly. "It's not the first time the point has been put to me. It has long since ceased to cause me much irritation. If you don't like something, change it, which is what I am currently doing. I don't waste time, as a rule. No point brooding or moping; that will serve no purpose. The only thing to do is work hard and make people sit up and take notice."

"An admirable sentiment," Gelda said quietly, her eyes lowered slightly, her soft, sweet tone remarkably pleasing. "Very admirable in fact. I misjudged you I think."

"Well, I was not exactly… pleasant to you either," Zeldris admitted. "It was a bit of a shock. You know, you'd never have got Meliodas to do anything," he added gently, not wishing to cause Gelda further pain, but he did need to explain the situation lest her clan make her try this stunt on another occasion. "He really is all that the legends make out. I don't think anything can sway him from his purpose, whatever that may be."

"No doubt that is true and, being honest, that was not my mission," Gelda said slowly. "I was… to collect information. I'm sorry," she added quickly as Zeldris's eyes widened. "It's nothing bad, do not misunderstand me. My father is not really secure in his own skin. Not all of us can have your confidence. He merely wanted some reassurance that your clan is taking this alliance seriously, that is all."

"Well I can help on that front, we do," Zeldris said as he bit into his steak. "If we did not intend the agreement to hold then we would not have made it in the first place. My father is terrifying but he keeps faith with those who keep faith with him."

"But Berialluin," Gelda protested, a shadow of fear creeping over her face. "It was destroyed! We found out yesterday…"

"Is that what all this is about?" Zeldris said, breaking into a smile. "The girl at the centre of the destruction did not keep her bargain, not with my father, nor with the supreme deity for that matter. If you play with fire you will get burned, something the girl's parents should have troubled to teach her.

"Honestly you have nothing to fear," Zeldris continued, his eyes meeting Gelda's in earnest. "Believe me, if anything was planned against your people I would be one of the first to know. I'm often asked to do the dirty work. Duty, remember," Zeldris said sharply as Gelda looked at him in apprehension. "You're not the only one who understands its imperative. As long as you keep to the terms of our agreement, you will have our protection. We have absolutely no plans to bring any harm to you or to Edinburgh. My clan is fierce mind, any treachery will be swiftly punished, but as far as I am aware we have no reason to suspect foul play at the present."

"Then my preparations for this evening have not been in vain." Gelda returned Zeldris's smile, her almond eyes crinkling very slightly at the edges. An imperfection he supposed but an attractive one. "We have no plans of that kind. It would indeed be more than stupid of us to entertain such thoughts."

"Then there is no problem," Zeldris said with some satisfaction. Had this unexpected foray into diplomacy somehow come off? Maybe Meliodas would now trust him with some of the more delicate missions; the brutal work of reprisal was fun enough in its way, but it did lack variety. His mood substantially improved, Zeldris stepped over to the fireplace and retrieved the bottle of blood which had been carefully placed there so as it keep it in pouring condition. Returning to the table, he refreshed Gelda's glass before setting the bottle back in its place.

"So what are your plans for when the war is over?" Gelda asked casually as Zeldris sat back down and the servants re-entered to clear the plates away. The query was innocent enough but it drew Zeldris up short, the surprise he felt forcing him to be more blunt that he wished.

"I… don't know," he replied, his face suddenly troubled. "Tell the truth I hadn't even considered the question. I guess my father will abdicate and Meliodas will accede to the throne." The thought was not pleasant, and Zeldris could not hide the fleeting show of distaste which flitted across his features. "Where that will leave me I honestly don't know."

"I'm sorry," Gelda said, her regret sounding genuine. "It must be difficult, the uncertainty."

"Well it's got to be done, whatever it is," Zeldris said bracingly as his eyes drifted to the table. "If I distinguish myself in this war it will hopefully not be too painful. As you said, perhaps he'll let me lead the army," he added and Gelda chuckled as he finally managed to make eye contact. "And what about you? What does your future hold?"

"Marriage and children," Gelda replied glumly, this time her eyes sliding to the tablecloth. "My father talks of nothing else at the moment. He's been lining up potential suitors for weeks and they are all, to a man, utterly revolting."

The pair fell silent as the servants placed the final course of the evening in front of their charges, waiting carefully until they were alone to resume their conversation. Zeldris caught himself admiring Gelda's discretion. It was not often females were so evidently prudent, in his experience. They tended to chatter on regardless of the consequences.

"You get no say in the matter, I presume?" Zeldris said gently, his blood running slightly cold as Gelda gracefully shook her head. What a fate for anyone to have to anticipate.

"It depends on the power and wealth they can bring to the table. The highest bidder wins," Gelda said sourly, her face scrunched up in disgust. "My personal preference means less than nothing. Not that it would matter, not a single one has been even presentable."

Zeldris bit his lip slightly as he looked at Gelda, who had taken a dainty bite of the confection in front of her. "Could you…stop it somehow?" he asked tentatively. "It's bad enough being used as some sort of sexual object but _this_? To tie yourself to someone you have no affinity with, who is not your equal, for a lifetime? I don't think I could bear it."

"I don't have much choice," Gelda whispered, her eyes sinking once more to the table and Zeldris was aghast to see a bright tear splash down next to her hand, staining the tablecloth.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," Zeldris said, his voice slightly panicked. His training had definitely not prepared him for this. "Forget I said anything. It's none of my business anyway." Indeed. Why had he said something? Why did he even care? This girl meant nothing to him.

"No, you're right. I'm weak. Weak and pathetic. I should put my foot down, prevent this. I was even hoping… you'll laugh at me for this. I was vaguely hoping that your brother might take a natural interest in me. That's the real reason I took such care over this," Gelda said as she shook out the fabric of her sleeves. "Not that I told any of my clan of course. And you can tell I don't know much about your race. If Meliodas is anything like you this was completely the wrong approach."

"I would not advise you to have any hope in that direction," Zeldris said softly, alarmed to find that the very idea now caused his chest to constrict rather uncomfortably. Somewhere along the line, he had obviously decided he did not want to see Gelda harmed. "Meliodas doesn't really have the capacity for that sort of sentiment. Or perhaps he does…" Zeldris said thoughtfully, staring into the distance. "But I'd worry on your behalf if such a union were to come about. My brother is very dangerous to be around."

"No doubt you are right. It just seemed… better than the alternative," Gelda said quietly her face still cast down and Zeldris fought the urge to reach out for her hand, which was resting on the table in front of him. "I'm so sorry. You didn't need to hear any of this."

"I… I don't mind," Zeldris said quietly, relieved that Gelda was beginning to get ahold of herself. The crying had definitely stopped anway. "And I'm sorry too. I wish I could take back what I said before."

"Consider it done. I understand where you were coming from," Gelda replied, the ghost of a smile back on her face. "Now I'd better freshen up and then get back to my clan. They will be relieved to hear the alliance is solid."

"Glad to have been of some help. I'll escort you back," Zeldris said, and he rose respectfully as Gelda took her leave. He was amazed when she returned to find that her makeup was perfectly in place, as if the tears of moments ago had been merely imaginary.

They were halfway back towards the wing of the castle where the vampires were quartered before Zeldris realised that Gelda had her hand on his arm, her fingers digging slightly into the fabric of the suit jacket he had forced himself to wear. His promise to Meliodas came back to haunt him, but he decided that this time he was not going to care. Slowly, Zeldris dropped his arm and allowed Gelda's fingers to lace through his. The castle was empty; the servants had been relieved of their duties for the evening and the guards had been ordered to leave the vampire's portion of the building alone. They were safe for the moment.

"You're not weak, and it will be alright, I'm sure," he said confidently, far more confidently than he truly felt. "You'll see. The suitor you are paired with will be a very lucky man. I am sure they will treat you with the respect you deserve." Gelda did not speak, merely squeezing his fingers in return, the pad of her thumb running in circles over the back of his hand. The sensation was hypnotising, and before he knew where he was Zeldris found himself outside the door of the royal vampires' quarters.

"Thank you. That was a much better evening that I had any right to expect," Gelda said, her hand continuing to rest in his. "And it will be alright for you too. Your brother must see your qualities. You will have a glittering career in his administration."

Zeldris found he could not reply. Now that the evening was irrefutably over, he found he could only wish they had a few hours more. Before he could articulate his thoughts however, Gelda surprised him by leaning over and kissing him tenderly on the cheek, before opening the door, casting one last look over her shoulder as she entered the room. For several seconds, Zeldris stood dazed where she had left him staring at the door Gelda had closed, before he started to make his way back through the castle.


	2. Chapter 2

A riot of colour. That was all Gelda could register as she gazed around the enormous ballroom. The ceiling shone with gold leaf which reflected the light of the many ornate chandeliers which were covered in droplets of the glass for which the kingdom was famous. Each little shard caught the glow of the candles to shine miniature rainbows onto the red, velvet carpet below. The faces before her were all eagerly peering up at her, some smiling with joy, others openly hostile. Everyone, it appeared, was clothed in satin or silk, blues, purples, greens and whites sparkling with silver thread and small diamonds. Gelda stared at the crowd, who were staring back at her, and wished she had never, ever been born.

"Ladies and gentlemen," boomed her father's voice, his loud tones echoing like a drum through the vastness of Edinburgh Castle. "I present to you my daughter and heir, princess Gelda, on the occasion of her birthday. And this year we have something joyous to celebrate. I am delighted to inform you that a bond of engagement has been contracted between my treasured daughter and prince Karayan of Transylvania."

There was a tumult of applause in response to this announcement. Every royal vampire from across the continent had sped to Edinburgh to hear the news, and the ballroom was pressed to the seams with bodies. Gelda felt an unwelcome chill creep up her spine as her father moved her to stand in front of him before beckoning another figure to join them.

She did not look into his face, but she registered that man placed at her side was tall, even taller than she remembered, and was dressed in an expensive, dark suit and soft navy cape. The other was careful to stand close without actually touching her, the cloth of his suit not quite brushing against her arm. But she could smell the faint trace of musk, feel the hairs stand up on her arms and the back of her head as she heard the soft pant of his breath. Gelda swallowed hard, forcing her face to keep a neutral countenance. She could not show the world how revolted she was.

As the vampire king's speech droned on, Gelda looked straight ahead, fixing her eyes on different spots throughout the room: the space just above Orlondi's head; a flickering rainbow; the curve of Ren's claws; anything to try and blot out the present reality. She was engaged to Karayan, the second prince of Transylvania, the most powerful vampire clan in the whole of Europe. Her father, king Izraf, had explained to her that this would ensure the safety of their people should the alliance with the demons ever turn sour. All she had to do was marry the man, and grit her teeth as she bore his children. He would remain by her side in Edinburgh, a token of the seriousness of the familial bond, and in exchange she and the court would adopt the customs of her new husband. Gelda had nodded, accepting her father's plans in stoic silence. As a woman she had no right to protest her fate.

The sound of clapping snapped her back to her senses. Gelda felt a hand move over hers, and she quickly took several deep breaths, trying to quell the panic which threatened to engulf her. The palm of her intended was clammy, his fingers pressing lightly on her knuckles and her stomach turned as Karayan's grip on her tightened. Gelda looked straight ahead as the prince led her down the steps of the platform, guiding her to a less crowded corner of the room.

Once they were alone the prince launched into speech. "It is about time that we discuss the arrangements," the man she must marry said without preamble. His voice was low, with a slight sibilance, the tone carefully clipped so as to convey his displeasure. "I have been observing the antics of this court, and I tell you now this cannot continue. _You_ are pleasingly quiet at least. I had heard rumour you were somewhat of a shrew. I am relieved to find your demeanour is much more appropriate for one of your station. But the other… 'women' here are an abomination."

Gelda looked up at this, noting the pause and inflection, her gaze meeting the other's hard, pale blue eyes. With a shock she realised the man could have been called handsome with his high, sharp cheekbones and fine blonde hair. That is were it not for the sneer that marred his face.

Karayan continued into the following silence, "The one you call Ren for example, she had the nerve to say that she is one of Edinburgh's best warriors. In _my_ hearing. No woman in my kingdom will be allowed to speak in this way. I trust you will instruct her in proper decorum."

"Ren _is_ one of our best warriors." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and Gelda's heart beated a little faster as the man opposite glared. But she held her ground, pushing her shoulders back and returning the stare, determined to show the prick how much of a shrew she could be. "There's no point denying it," she added coldly, almost enjoying the look of dark fury that clouded her fiancé's expression. "Our clan is weak. Aside from my father, it is only myself, Ren, Mod, Orlondi and Ganne who have any real power, and Ren and I are the most accomplished..."

"This ends _now_." Karayan took a step forwards, leaning into her and pressing his face into hers. He was shaking, and she suddenly felt afraid, unable to prevent herself flinching from the imaginary blow.

"Step back this instant." The command rang in Gelda's ears and she turned in surprise at the sound of the voice. Immediately her cheeks flushed with heat and, to her dismay, she felt tears beginning to sting the back of her eyes. She blinked rapidly, focusing on her breathing, doing her best not to show her agitation. She had almost forgotten that the demon clan had sent several representatives to join the celebration, and she had not dared to hope that Zeldris would be one of the party. Yet here he was, standing before her, his gauntleted hand gripping tight on the hilt of his sword. Gelda's blush bloomed as she remembered the last time they had been together, the way the soft skin on his cheek had felt under her lips, and how difficult it had been to close the door behind him.

Karayan was between her and the demon in an instant. "How dare you," he hissed. "This is a private matter…"

"I beg to differ," Zeldris replied, his scowl deepening and his hand never leaving his weapon. Gelda could feel his power crackling through the room, the dark energy leaving a comforting warmth on her skin. "The vampires of Edinburgh are my clan's allies. Gelda is their princess and heir to their throne. I am authorised to eliminate anyone who threatens her person."

Karayan laughed, the harsh sound echoing through he ballroom. At once the hubbub of conversation fell to a hush as every guest in the room turned to gaze in their direction. Gelda closed her eyes, wishing the ground would swallow her whole. "I have heard tell that the demons of Britannia think with their fists, not their brains," Karayan chuckled as Zeldris's power flashed sparks. "The princess is _mine_ ," he said in a hiss. "Once we are married she is my property. I can and will do whatever I please with her."

"Is that a threat?" Zeldris took a step towards the vampire prince, a haze of purple rising over his form and the mark on his forehead bleeding like ink. "Because if it is, I will have the pleasure of showing you what it means to be allied to my clan. The princess is under my protection and if you do not treat her with the appropriate respect I will kill you where you stand." Gelda looked at the demon in astonishment. From what she had gathered during her visit to the demon realm, the youngest of the three princes was careful and controlled, yet here he was in the grip of his anger.

"Zeldris," she warned under her breath, "it's alright. Please just let it go. I can handle this…"

"What's all this?" Gelda swallowed as her father strode into the space, his grinning face looking towards Karayan, then Zeldris, then back to Karayan again. "Looks like a little spat. Well, that will liven up the proceedings. What do you say we enjoy the fight?" Izraf proclaimed to the rest of the crowd. "My daughter's fiancé, Karayan of Transylvania, against the demon Zeldris, the third prince of our allies. Let us see which of them can best the other."

Gelda felt horror run through her veins and she opened her mouth to protest, but Izraf silenced her intended outburst with a hard look. "Fine with me," Zeldris replied, the tightness of his jaw the only remaining sign of his anger. He looked for all the world a professional soldier.

"I also accept the challenge," Karayan said loftily, a smug smile spreading across his face. "It is beneath the dignity of my race but I would not wish to deprive your guests of entertainment, Your Majesty. And besides, this won't take long." The last remark was addressed to the crowd, who cheered and laughed in response. The tension was gone as the guests moved towards the stone walls, clearing a space in the middle of the room, excited chatter displacing the silence.

The noise died away as the pair of combatants took their places. Gelda could hardly bear to look as Karayan's aura burst over the room, his power fanning out in waves. He was much stronger than she had suspected. She could see the vampire's face shining with triumph, his fangs gleaming in the candlelight, but try as she might she could not catch Zeldris's eye. He had his back partly to her, his attention fixed squarely on his opponent and Gelda could sense the force of his concentration.

All at once, she felt a blast of air. Gelda looked round in surprise at Karayan. His eyes were dark and sunken, his arms held aloft, his lips moving as if in some incantation. There was an audible intake of breath as, above the vampire's head, rows and rows of pointed glass darts, the teardrops from the chandeliers, began to float in the air. The crowd collectively gasped, and Gelda felt her heart leap into her throat as the shards pointed directly towards the demon, before they flew towards him at incredible speed. It was all she could do not to shout out a warning. The impulse took the princess by surprise. Evidently she wanted Zeldris to win.

As the glass rushed towards Zeldris, the room suddenly darkened, purple haze rising to obscure the glow of the lights. " _Ominous Nebula_ ," the demon called, and immediately his form was shrouded by a black obscurity. Gelda squinted, trying to see into the midst of it, but she could make nothing out. The darts sped again and again into the bank of dark, and a cacophony of grinding and splintering deafened her ears. She looked around at the crowd and the sea of faces, some smirking unsurely, others uncommonly serious. The fights among the vampires of Edinburgh were generally undertaken in order to train; unlike this fight they did not have a realistic prospect of ending in death.

Karayan shouted as the last of the missiles shot into the black. "That will teach you the lesson of your arrogance," he called as the assembled vampires half-heartedly cheered. Then the substance dispersed, the darkness dissipating as the haze drifted gently away, showing Zeldris to be standing exactly where he had been before. He was completely unharmed. It did not even look as if he had even broken into a sweat. Beside him was a towering pile of what looked like glittering snow. It took Gelda a while to realise that this was the remnants of glass which had somehow been ground down into fine, gleaming dust.

"Your power is telekinesis," Zeldris mused, his expression giving absolutely nothing away. "Not completely risible, as these things go," he said grudgingly. "Still, I have taken the liberty of sealing your magic. I am sure our hosts do not appreciate the mess you have made of their castle. You have no need for concern, I intend to play fair," the demon added as Karayan cursed loudly. "I will not use my power either. Now, draw your sword."

As Zeldris spoke the rasp of metal rang through the room. Karayan moved a fraction too slowly to perfectly deflect the oncoming attack, but he managed to dodge under the demon's blade, twisting beneath until he stood behind Zeldris. The demon whipped round, their blades clanging loudly as they smashed together. Again and again the pair attacked and parried, both moving like lightning. Their bodies were a blur as they writhed and turned. But as the fight progressed, Gelda could see that the demon had the upper hand. Zeldris's movements were faster, neater, while the vampire facing him began to falter.

A few strokes more and Karayan was flat on his back, looking up at Zeldris with hostile eyes. Gelda felt slightly dizzy and only just managed to stay on her feet as the vampires around her muttered uneasily. The demon's sword was pressed into the vampire's neck, and Gelda felt suddenly cold: Zeldris's power was bursting like flame, his face a picture of absolute fury. "Stop!" Gelda shouted as she stumbled forwards. Zeldris turned, and as their eyes connected she saw the anger drain from his face. Stiffly, the demon pulled his arm back and away, sheathing his sword in one fluid movement.

The vampire beneath him scrambled to his feet, but before he could say anything Zeldris strode past him, heading swiftly towards the door. The crowd parted before him as he moved, their mutters and murmurs erupting in his wake. Gelda was vaguely aware that Izraf was calling to her, but it was no more than a faint buzz on the air. It felt as though she was floating, her feet carrying her of their own accord as she followed the trail of the demon prince.

She came to her senses when the cold air hit her face. Zeldris had led them through the gates to the rolling hills outside of the castle and Gelda breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the smell of rain and damp heather. The dark of the night was comforting, flowing through her veins and giving her strength. Tentatively she stretched out her powers, relief washing over her as she felt Zeldris's answering signal.

"I owe you an apology, princess Gelda." The vampire stepped forwards until she stood alongside the demon, whose eyes were fixed on the stars above. "You informed me that you were in a position to handle the situation," Zeldris said bitterly. "I should have listened to you. It was not my place to interfere."

Gelda held her breath as she struggled for words. All her life, decisions had been made for her. She had been raised to rule, not as her own self but as an adjunct to another. She had always wanted her clan to accept her competence, and now that it had been she felt so overwhelmed. Swallowing hard, she tried to give voice to these thoughts, before abandoning the attempt to rasp out, "Why were you so angry?"

"No one should ever speak to you like that." Zeldris sighed, his shoulders dropping, "but it was not my place to make the point, especially not on your behalf..."

"It's alright." Zeldris turned towards her in surprise and Gelda felt her heart skip a beat, electricity running up her back. "I know you understand," she continued as she clasped her hands together, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. She thought back over the past several months since she and her clan had returned from the demon realm and the place where a reluctant prince had sat with her through a meal, and she had to acknowledge that the demon who stood opposite her had been in her thoughts far more often than he should have.

She was surprised to see Zeldris apparently hesitate. "It… was not that," he finally said. "I was angry because I could not bear to see you with _him._ He is totally unworthy of you. But..."

Without thinking, Gelda pressed her lips to his. Her head swam as she felt the demon respond, tentatively at first then more surely, tasting ginger and cardamom as he deepened their kiss. She felt arms wrap around her, the warmth contrasting with the chill of the night, and she learnt instinctively into Zeldris's touch. The nightmare that her life had been since the Transylvanian contingent had arrived and she had been promised to the odious Karayan seemed to melt away as the moments passed, the soft flutter of moths the only sound to disturb their peace.

Zeldris was the first to break away. "This cannot be," he declared and Gelda flinched to hear the pain in his voice. "You are to marry another…"

"I won't do it!" Gelda held his hands in hers, becoming all too aware of the metal circling her fourth finger. With a cry, she pulled the jewel off her hand, hurling the ring away into the night. "I just can't!"

Zeldris nodded, then swallowed. "I can appreciate your reluctance, but what are our options? Because it appears to me that we do not have many."

Gelda closed her eyes, and took a step back, and at once Zeldris's arms fell back to his sides. She could think of nothing, no way out of the hole that _she_ had dug with her own two hands. "I'm so sorry. I…" the princess began before Orlondi ran at full pelt from the castle. He looked to the left and the right, before spotting the pair, heading towards them at a breathless trot.

"Prince Zeldris," the vampire said with a bow. "You're wanted for an audience with our king. Will you come with me. Please." Gelda stared at her cousin in astonishment. Since when did he ever use the word 'please'?

From the look on the demon's face, Zeldris was equally taken aback. "Am I allowed to ask what this is about?" he asked, his head slightly cocked to one side.

All the received from the vampire in response was a smile, Orlondi looking even more obsequious than usual. With a shrug, Zeldris set off towards the castle, casting a quick glance at Gelda over his shoulder. The princess watched until they were out of sight, her heart full of misgivings as he slipped through the gates. Dawn was appearing on the horizon, pinks and golds streaking across the sky. She too would need to return to the birthday party that had no doubt long since ended before he sun broke over the rim of the horizon.

Picking up her silk dress to stop it trailing over the ground, Gelda stepped slowly back to the castle, her mind turning over possibilities that did not seem to add up. She could see no way forwards, and yet no way to turn back, no way to escape from the confines of her responsibilities.


	3. Chapter 3

The throne room was dark, the only light seeping from the few torches that dotted the walls, their blue flames casting most of the vast space into a deep shadow. Zeldris stood his ground, unintimidated. The vampire king was evidently trying to unnerve him. Izraf was sitting on the throne, his hands curled into fists atop of armrests fashioned from skulls. _Tasteless_ he thought, but made sure his disgust did not show on his features. He had attacked the princess' fiancé, in the vampires' own kingdom and he was likely in for a significant dressing down. It would be a miracle to keep it from Meliodas's ears.

Still, he stood his ground as the vampire king narrowed his eyes, his mouth twisting up a touch at the corners. "Your little display was very interesting," Izraf mused, "and unorthodox certainly."

"I apologise for my outburst," replied the demon stiffly. "I considered the conduct I witnessed to be unconscionably degrading towards the princess, but I accept that it was an internal matter. It was not my place to intervene."

"Oh, there's no need to apologise, it was most entertaining!" Izraf leaned a little forward in his seat as Zeldris sucked in a sharp breath. "But what I want to know is this. Why did you do it? What does my daughter mean to you, exactly?"

Zeldris felt his blood run cold. He hated to lie, the idea of doing so leaving a taste of cotton in his mouth, but he could not say anything that might cause Gelda harm. The silence stretched on, Izraf's smirk morphing to a leer as he looked down at the demon from his place on the throne, lightly drumming his fingers on the armrests in a way that very clearly marked the passage of time. "I choose not to answer that question," Zeldris finally stated, feeling heat on the back of his neck.

Izraf let forth a loud guffaw, the sound echoing in waves off the dark, stone walls. "That tells me all I want to know. Not that I needed your verbal confirmation. I can tell you're in love with her. Don't try to deny it, I recognise the symptoms. You are not the first to look at my daughter with ardent eyes."

Hearts skipping their beats, Zeldris took several breaths, trying to determine how best to respond. "Even if your observation was correct, it makes no difference," he finally muttered. "Gelda is engaged…"

"Oh no she's not, not in a binding way at least," Izraf boomed heartily. "I've not sent a dowry to the Transylvanians yet. According to our customs, until the agreed dowry is received by the groom's party, the engagement is nothing more than a verbal agreement. Easily made, easily broken."

The assault of raw emotion was completely unexpected; hope and excitement bloomed within him, making his chest ache, before being dampened almost immediately by overpowering doubt. Zeldris looked hard at the king, trying to scrutinise his rather jovial expression. It was as if he were seeing the pieces move on a board but had no way of discerning their strategy. "I... do not understand," he eventually murmured.

"Then I will make myself plain," Izraf declared. "If Gelda prefers your suit over that of Karayan, I am not minded to stand in her way. You are, after all, the third son of our most powerful ally. I would have preferred Meliodas," the King mused, and Zeldris felt his teeth grind hard together, "but you are a perfectly acceptable alternative. Indeed, you proved as much when you won your fight."

"So that is why you allowed it." Zeldris's pressed his lips together as the events of the previous evening suddenly shifted into focus. "You _wanted_ me to challenge that vampire."

Izraf shrugged his shoulders, then relaxed back in his chair. "I'm pleased to see you're not totally devoid of intelligence. I'd hoped Gelda had managed to attract Meliodas's eye when we were in the demon realm and that this engagement would flush any feelings he had for her out of the woodwork. No harm if he didn't of course, but a bit of me hoped he'd try and assert a claim. For all his cold blood, he's well known for being impetuous. You on the other hand are supposed to be a study in control, is that not so? The fact you've shown your cards so plainly is proof enough of the depth of your feeling. Well, that's good enough for me, as is your position as one of the most powerful of your clan, and a member of the demon royal family. You're clearly a better specimen than Gelda's current betrothed."

Zeldris had to swallow hard to keep the rage off his features. He had been used, manipulated. Had Gelda too been in on this plot? Perhaps the tenderness she had so recently shown him was all part of the same ruse. "I am no one's pawn," he hissed as anger curdled in the pit of his stomach.

"Understood." Izraf was not quite able to keep the smirk off his face. "But there's no need for hostility. The choice is yours," he added as he spread out his hands before him. "I am merely suggesting that if you ask for permission to court the princess, I'll listen to you with an open mind. And before you decide, I can tell you the dowry attached to her is… significant." Zeldris watched as Izraf nodded sagely. "I think you'll find it's sufficient to finance your clan's military plans. And you need the money," Izraf added darkly. "There's no reason for you demons to have forged an alliance with me unless it was for the tribute."

Zeldris folded his arms across his chest. The vampire king was more astute than he looked; the alliance between their clans had indeed been motivated by money. To get access to more would do his own standing at court no harm at all. "I will even increase Gelda's dowry from the amount I planned," Izraf said carefully, and Zeldris realised his thoughts must have shown on his features. "Recognition of your superior situation. But, in return, I must ask that you give me an answer now. I cannot keep the Transylvanians waiting."

He should say no. Zeldris knew he should say no, but it was hard to ignore the way his hearts pounded in his chest. Visions of the future, _their_ future, flashed through his brain: her golden head resting on his shoulder as the two of them gazed out over a starlit Britannia, his arm pulling her close as they whispered love to one another. His throat tightened, and he tried to swallow, stomach turning as the vampire king chuckled.

"I…" Zeldris began. But before he could give voice to the jumble of thoughts he was trying to make sense of, muffled voices percolated through from outside the throne room, followed by a loud creak as the great doors swung open.

"Your Majesty," a servant stuttered and Zeldris felt his hearts lurch as he spied Gelda approaching, her long braid swinging gracefully with her movement. She was even lovelier than he remembered, her face a little flushed and her lips parted. The world spun on its axis as he drank her in, the brief exchange between the servant and king going completely unnoticed as he watched her walk towards him, eyes locked in his. The doubts he had entertained were gone in an instant, his resolve firm as he turned back to face the dais.

"I ask for your permission, Your Majesty." Zeldris felt his ears burn red, but was pleased to have kept the threatened tremor out of his voice. "If Princess Gelda permits, I would be glad of the opportunity to court her." He sensed the princess still her approach, hearing her gasp, but he kept his eyes resolutely on the king. "If the princess is in agreement, I will have to gain the consent of my own clan, of course. But I will not proceed unless she is happy with the arrangement," he said firmly as Izraf smiled beatifically.

"And what do you say, Gelda?" Izraf asked, the words sound casual but Zeldris could hear the bite behind them.

Gelda took several paces forward until she was standing at his side, and he could see the look of anguish etched on her features. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "This is a mess and…"

"You have nothing to apologise for," Zeldris murmured. He reached out, tentatively taking her hands in his own, relief flowing through him when Gelda did not draw back. "I am well aware that we have both been used, and yes, I wish it could have been otherwise. But this is what we both want, is it not? It is what I want at any rate. I promise."

He felt her pause, before her fingers interlaced with his. "I want it too," she said softly.

"That's all settled then!" Izraf pushed himself to his feet and stepped down from the dais to loom over the couple. "I am delighted to give you my blessing. You had better go make it happen," he added quietly to Zeldris, the demon giving a nod in return.

It was as if he were walking on cloud, his feet barely touching the floor as they passed through the throne room. Gelda's arm was looped round his own, and he could feel the warmth of her body pressed to his side. He swallowed hard, wondering if he should break the spell; they had much to discuss but the moment he opened his mouth he knew their moment of peace would be over.

In the end it was Gelda who was the first to speak. "The Transylvanians are gone," she said softly, her voice little more than a whisper and he could hear the melancholy in her sonorous tone. "When I made that discovery I came to find you, to warn you there was some sort of trap. I… I think my father must have planned this all along."

Zeldris sighed, then turned her to face him, running his hands up and down her arms. They were standing in one of the grander hallways, large, colourful tapestries hanging like banners on the walls. Judging by the light streaming through the stained glass windows the day was now firmly established, and the castle was quiet, only their voices echoing through the space. "I had divined as much before you arrived, and I meant what I said. Assuming I can somehow persuade my family to agree."

"Do you think they'll object?" asked Gelda.

Zeldris bit his lip, lifting his shoulders a little. "Possibly. The dowry will help. As long as that is a solid promise…"

"It is," Gelda said, her eyes snapping to his. "The amount was set aside in the treasury. I was surprised it hadn't been sent, but I assumed Karayan's family wanted to inspect it or something. Please believe me, I never dreamed my father had an ulterior motive."

"I know." Zeldris felt Gelda's lips press to the corner of his mouth, the scent of roses and the feel of her hair against his cheek pulling him back to the dark hills of Edinburgh. "I love you," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, never wanting to let her go. But before she could respond, there was a sudden rush of wind, shadow passing over them as the windows went black and a menacing power pushed through the air. "Stay back," Zeldris barked as he moved Gelda behind him, drawing his sword with a harsh grate as a louring presence strode into the hallway.

"Well hello little brother." The sneer on Meliodas's face was enough to make his blood boil. "Cusack told me you needed a rescue. Something about how you were making a fool of yourself. Usually he's full of so much hot air but this time I see his panic was justified. What the hell is going on?" Meliodas looked Gelda up and down, his eyes bright with dark flame.

Zeldris stood more firmly in front of Gelda, placing himself between her and his brother. "This is none of your concern," he barked. "As it happens I was about to return home. I have something I wish to speak to father about."

"So it's true." Meliodas took several paces forward, his power cracking like lightning. Zeldris could taste the electricity on the air, feel the hairs stand on the back of his neck. "You've been tricked into proposing marriage… to _her_."

"This is no trick," Zeldris said calmly, though he sensed Gelda fidget behind him. "It is a straightforward arrangement to our clans' mutual benefit, one princess Gelda and I both wish to enter into. I was on my way to tell father the good news. The vampires have promised a dowry large enough for him to find useful."

"You are a fool!" Meliodas snapped. "I suppose you are aware that she tried to ensnare me first," he remarked, lip curled to a sneer. " _I_ was wise enough to stay clear, for all her title is The Thousand Temptations..."

Zeldris held up a hand to stem the flow. "You would do well to watch your tongue," he managed to rasp out through clenched teeth. He realised his sword was still in his hand, and he could feel himself ready to spring, however reckless such a move would be. It was with some effort that he left his feet planted firmly on the floor. "When our father agrees to the match, as I am confident he will, you will regret you have spoken of my betrothed in such an uncouth way."

"You always were such an ass," Meliodas said with a sigh. "But I never had you pegged for an idiot as well. This is _folly_ ," he scolded as he crossed his arms over his chest, his scowl directed firmly at Gelda. "Love is no more than a pathetic emotion, an illusion that ensnares your mind and makes you weak. And you are not weak," he added with a low hiss. "You have the potential to be one of our most accomplished warriors. One of the best we have ever cultivated. And you would throw it all away for some slip of a girl?"

The blow was hard. Zeldris inhaled a cool breath as he struggled to maintain his composure. "This is what you have trained for your whole life," Meliodas said more gently, taking a few steps forward and moving the sword Zeldris pointed in his direction away with his hand. "You are close to succeeding. Do not give up now."

"I will not be giving up," Zeldris muttered, though the drop of his stomach robbed his words of the full force of conviction. "Zeldris…" Gelda murmured behind him, but he cut her off with a snarl. "This union will give our clan victory. That is what my duty is, is it not? To bring us success in this damned war. There are more ways of achieving that than the bloodlust you revel in. Unlike you, I have fought because it is my task, not my pleasure. And where has it got us? A spiral of eternal conflict with no hope of an end. The vampires' wealth will give us surety of victory. So tell me this, Meliodas, when history is written by the survivors of our clan, which of us do you think will be judged more harshly?"

The laugh that followed was a familiar sound. "You should give up oration, it doesn't suit you," Meliodas said with a grin. "But very well, more glory for me, I suppose. I will support this… whatever you chose you label this nonsense. Estarossa can take your place at court."

Before Zeldris could reply, Meliodas pulled the strands of darkness that had bled from his form back into his body with a snap. "I will sort things out for you with the king," his brother said brusquely. "He will agree to this arrangement if I give it my backing. But I will need to take the dowry now," he added, glaring at Gelda as he spoke. "His Majesty will need proof of its worth before he consents."

"Are you sure, Zeldris?" Gelda's voice sounded choked, piercing his hearts. "You… we don't have to go through with this is it's not what you want. Once the dowry is sent there's no going back…"

"Then send it." With a last look of disdain in Meliodas's direction, Zeldris turned to face her. Doubt swirled through him, but the nagging sensation subsided as he smoothed his hand over her porcelain cheek. "Now you see you are being used as much as me," he said flatly. "We spoke about this the first time we met, remember? How neither of us will ever have freedom. But I _choose_ you," he added as his eyes locked onto hers. "I said I love you, and I mean it. I will do my best to make you happy."

Gelda swallowed, her throat moving as she nodded. Looking over Zeldris's shoulder she addressed Meliodas, her voice full of authority. "Your Grace, if you seek an audience with my father he will make arrangements for the dowry to be sent with you. You will want a convoy for its secure transport. It is permitted by our customs for an inspection to take place, but if the dowry is not returned by sundown tomorrow, it will be assumed that your clan have consented to the match. Once that has occurred, the engagement is binding by law."

"You do not need to lecture me, Princess Gelda, I am more than aware of the customs of your clan." Meliodas narrowed his eyes, then grinned. "He'll say yes alright," he added loftily and Zeldris felt a strong urge to kick his brother in the teeth. "He always gives me what I want." With that, Meliodas strode through the corridor, retracing the steps Zeldris and Gelda had made from the throne room. "Gods forbid I should ever make such an exhibition of myself, it is totally degrading," he said with a chuckle before, finally, leaving the couple alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Gelda smiled, just about managing to bite back a smirk as she watched Zeldris stare straight ahead. She knew him by now, and the way his face went completely still as he fought to hide his feelings from the world. Beside her, Izraf made a great show of pointing out the various objects which would play their part in the coming ceremony, explaining their importance to the vampire clan: the long, golden sceptre for power; the chalice studded with hundreds of jewels showing their wealth; and the crown set with a huge ruby to symbolise authority.

"When the bride has reached the dais, the music will stop and I will start the proclamations, some of which will require a response from the pair of you," Izraf said sternly, his eyes squarely on the demon who was somehow managing to keep his face a mask. "It is crucial you follow them precisely. One word wrong…"

"Father," Gelda said gently, "we've been over this a number of times. We have prepared and are ready for tomorrow. Nothing will go wrong."

Izraf sighed, then sank into the throne, rubbing his eyes then resting his head in his hands. "I know," he agreed as he reached for her to take her hand. "I just cannot shake this premonition that something will go wrong. These last few days, my sleep has been disturbed," he confided as Gelda looked at him with concern. "But I trust you, both of you. I know you won't let me down."

"Everything is ready," Gelda said reassuringly as the vampire king rested his head on the back of his chair. She saw Zeldris's shoulders stiffen, a sure sign that he also was under stress, and she turned towards him with a wide smile. "The day has been carefully planned down to the last detail."

Zeldris nodded, clearing his throat. "There is nothing else that needs to be arranged?"

"No. Just turn up." At this the vampire king grinned, his hands relaxing in his lap. "You are right, my daughter, nothing has been left to chance. I need to stop worrying."

"In that case, I will… take my leave, until tomorrow." Zeldris's voice sounded strained and Gelda felt her heart quicken, her father's nervousness starting to become her own. She stepped down from the dais, walking towards the man she was to marry, tension snapping in the air between them as the demon bowed, formally taking his leave from his future sovereign.

The sound of their footsteps echoed across the halls as they made their way through Edinburgh Castle. Gelda wanted desperately to reach out for him, to pull him close, to hear him tell her everything was alright. But he said nothing, and she saw his throat move a little as he swallowed, saw him bite his lip as they approached the main entrance. Unable to take it any longer, Gelda murmured, "Zeldris what's wrong? I… if you're having second thoughts?"

"No!" Relief flooded through her as he turned towards her, folding her into his arms. His hold was tight, almost desperate, and she could hear the ragged sound of his breathing, feel the way his hearts thumped in his chest. "Your father is not the only one who has been plagued by premonitions," Zeldris explained as he pulled back, taking both of her hands in his. "I cannot explain it, but I keep expecting something to go awry. I have never been happy, not really," he admitted, his eyes sliding to the floor. "This seems… too much like a dream. One that could easily turn into a nightmare."

Gelda stepped forwards, pulling him once more into a close embrace and pressing her lips to his cheek. "I love you," she murmured, "nothing will go wrong."

They stayed locked together for several moments until Gelda reluctantly pulled back. "Do you have to go at once?"

He smiled then, the rare sight calming her nerves. "No, not at once. If you would like to run through the vows…"

"I have a better idea." Taking his hand, Gelda pulled Zeldris through the heavy double doors and out into the dark of the night. The cool summer breeze immediately rushed over them, ghosting along the skin of her bare arms and raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Taking deep gulps of the fresh air brought earthy hints of heather and bracken, the excitement she felt chasing away her fears. "Do you remember the last time we were here?" she asked with a giggle as Zeldris took her hand.

"I remember you throwing an engagement ring into the undergrowth. An action I sincerely hope you do not wish to repeat." Gelda laughed, glancing down as Zeldris ran his thumb over the stone on her finger. She did not need to see the rare orange sapphire set in a platinum band, the heat-treated gem chosen to symbolise the fiery nature of her power. The way it looked was committed to her memory. She shook her head playfully as their hands strayed together, fingers interweaving in an instant.

Zeldris sighed as he stared out at the night and Gelda watched as the clouds moved away from the moon, silver light pouring onto the earth below. "Will you miss the demon realm?" she asked tentatively. "It's… a bit different here."

"If you mean will I miss the shrieks of the hydra, no I will not," declared Zeldris, "but…" He trailed off, his voice growing slightly wistful as he stared out at the land. "This is beautiful."

With a smile, Gelda held up a hand, the tips of her fingers tingling as she summoned her power. Flames burst into the air, flickering in her palm to fill the black sky with streaks of orange and gold, illuminating the landscape in a fiery glow. The princess watched as the hills of Edinburgh were cast into sharp relief, her eyes running over the dips as the vast expanse of earth stretched before her. All of this was the vampires' domain. She heard Zeldris take a sharp breath beside her but she continued to gaze out at the night.

Mulberry gauze spread through the night, curling together with Gelda's fire. She felt Zeldris's power licking against her own, the two forces mingling as their magic grew. Purple and orange flames burst around them like fireworks as a ball of colourful energy floated towards the sky, flashes of Hellblaze containing the fire and carrying it like a lantern into the dark.

The orb whizzed through the atmosphere, rushing over the castle, twisting around the towers and turrets. Gelda felt Zeldris's arm circle her waist and she leaned into him as they watched their magic explore every inch of the structure before exploding in a shower of light at the very top. Sparks of every hue scattered through the dark, crackling and hissing as they shone like stars. Zeldris pulled Gelda closer towards him, his pulse quickening as she turned in his arms, their lips melding together.

The worry that had plagued him subsided as she tilted her head to deepen their kiss and he immersed himself in the aroma of roses and the spice of their magic. The ache of longing and want bloomed in his chest as he held her; he had carried it since the day she had accepted his suit, and he had been surprised to find that it did not fade, whether they were together or apart, a constant reminder of the love he bore. For he loved her, more than he could ever hope to explain.

"Master." The unwelcome greeting rang through the still of the night, setting his teeth on edge in an instant. He practically snarled as he reluctantly left the warmth of Gelda's embrace, her eyes going wide as he pulled back sharply. His jaw clamped shut as he looked at his tutor, long moustache gleaming in the light of their power which was still falling like a fountain over the earth, glitter dust swirling through the sky. Examining Cusack's features, Zeldris tried to divine the reason for his presence, but the demon's face was impassive, giving nothing away.

"My apologies, Your Highness," continued Cusack suavely, his low voice sonorous and vibrating with authority. "You are wanted at home, without any delay. I was sent to fetch you with the utmost urgency."

Without realising it, Zeldris cocked his head to one side. "Urgency?" he asked, allowing one eyebrow to raise just a bit. "You had better tell me what the problem is," he added sternly as Cusack gave him an impassive stare. "You will not keep secrets from princess Gelda. After we are wed tomorrow she will be your liege."

"I am afraid I am not at liberty to say what has occasioned the summons. But I can confirm that I would not be here if this ran contrary to your interests." Cusack strode forwards, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword that swung by his side. "Come with me, young Prince," she said softly, "it is worth your while."

The maniacal look in his tutor's eyes was a little unsettling but Zeldris complied, turning to the woman at his side. "I love you, always," he whispered as he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek in deference to Cusack's presence. "I cannot wait until we are husband and wife. I will see you tomorrow."

"I love you too," Gelda called as Zeldris and Cusack summoned darkness to build wings over their backs and set off quickly towards the demon realm.

The atmosphere was frantic. The moment the pair set down outside the portcullis, Zeldris could feel the tension. Servants were rushing about in all directions, some yelling instructions at more junior staff. Zeldris's eyes darted from left to right as he strode towards the gates; even in their present state of panic demons scattered before his advance, clearing a path as he made his way to the throne room.

The doors to the demon king's lair opened without ceremony, a fact that made Zeldris even more uneasy. Cusack had said nothing on the journey, given him no hint of what to expect, only looking at him with a lopsided grin. The throne room itself was far more calm, the movements outside it stilled. The king sat like a monolith in his golden chair, and Zeldris could feel his power snapping through the room. His father was evidently in the foulest of moods, if he could not even keep himself together.

As Zeldris approach the dais, Cusack following a respectful distance behind, he stopped short, biting down on his tongue. The palace was in an uproar and the king was swallowed by rage, so where was his brother? Invariably at moments like these, after the loss of a battle, Meliodas would stand at the king's side, offering what comfort he could with his own bountiful power. It had always made Zeldris feel left out, knowing the king wanted Meliodas at such times, and not him.

"You took your time," the king snapped, each word punctuated by a crackle of electricity. Zeldris ignored the temper, staring steadily back as his father glowered with menace. Eventually, the king relaxed back in his chair, but the heavy anger he carried did not dissipate.

"The wedding is off."

Zeldris's stomach fell like a stone, his mouth falling open in shock. "But… why?" he cried, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, and he pressed his fingers hard into his palms. "They sent us the dowry! I have to…"

"I sent it back." The demon king stood, looming over his son as he stepped down from the throne. "I have kept my word. They have nothing to complain of."

"Yes they do!" Zeldris protested, ignoring the way Cusack was pointedly clearing his throat. "This is their custom. Once the dowry has been accepted the engagement cannot be broken. I have to…"

"What you have to do is lead this damn war." The demon king snarled, his low growl echoing through the chamber. "You will do your duty and right the wrongs that your br… the _traitor_ has done to our clan. So you can forget the vampires. Your place is on the battlefield."

As Zeldris stared, feeling his hearts pound, Cusack stepped forwards. "Young master, what you need to know is that Meliodas has…"

"Do _not_ speak that traitor's name!" The demon king's face darkened, swirls of Hellblaze gathering like a storm around him.

Cusack inclined his head, then continued, "The traitor has left our clan, defected over the love of a disgusting goddess, so the rumours suggest."

Zeldris turned to stare in unabashed surprise at his tutor. "W-what?" he managed to stutter as the blood drained from his face, remembering the way Meliodas had berated him for feeling affection mere months before. "But, that cannot be possible," he protested. "Mel- he would never…"

"He killed Aranak and Zeno on his way out." Zeldris watched in horror as Cusack's eyes practically glowed with delight. _He's enjoying this_ , Zeldris thought as his tutor visibly worked to suppress a smile.

"So we are not only missing… him, we have lost two Commandments as well?" Panic squeezed at his chest, restricting his airways. He barely registered as Cusack started droning on about how the army would need a new leader, one more reliable and committed to the cause than the last. Shaking his head to clear away the buzz, he demanded, "Where is he? Do we know where he has gone?"

"Finally, someone has asked the right question." The demon king shot Zeldris a look before returning to the throne, his height still dominating the room. "Derieri and Monspeet have been scouring Britannia, looking for our missing citizens. They have just sent in an interesting report. Our lost people are being held in the fairy king's forest, along with some other unmentionables who appear to have claimed sanctuary there."

Zeldris took several deep breaths in an attempt to force his pulse to slow. Thoughts ran in circles through his head, and he closed his eyes as he tried to make sense of the conflicting emotions which warred for dominance. The vampires would not stand for the insult his own father had visited upon them, his months learning their customs had taught him this much, though how they would respond to the slight he could only imagine. There was only one thing for it: Meliodas would need to be fetched back home and the empty Commandment positions filled, and soon. Otherwise, Izraf was liable to make a bold move, one that would assuage his pride at the expense of his safety.

"Then I will go, with your permission, Your Majesty." Zeldris withstood his father's withering stare. "I have a plan," he said, making sure his voice rang with confidence he did not truly feel. "Give me the Commandments. I will find them new homes." The demon king's eyes narrowed, but he muttered the words of the spell, the spheres of his magic floating to his son.

"The fairy king's forest is practically impenetrable…" Cusack began as Zeldris said the reciprocal spell to stow the power away.

"Practically being the operative word." Zeldris ignored his tutor to regard the king. "I know how we can do it. Give me your blessing and I will bring them down."

Slowly, the king nodded his head in agreement. "I will do more than that." Zeldris gasped as tendrils of darkness shot from the king, slithering through the air to circle his wrists and ankles, holding him firmly in place. He could feel the king's power running through him, tearing at him as it burrowed through his veins. He grit his teeth, forcing himself not to cry out with the pain as part of his father's power became his own.

"You should find that gives you a little advantage," the king intoned as Zeldris shook with the pain. "Now go, and spare no expense. Take whichever of our warriors you require. My only command is that you bring the traitor back alive. I have unfinished business with him."

Zeldris bowed low, taking his leave. He wanted to run, to ready the demon forces and start his campaign at once, but he made himself walk at a sedate, steady pace. _If I do not act soon, Izraf will get there before me_. He shook his head, trying to shift the fear which was slowly trickling through his form.

"And Zeldris, do not mess this up. Failure will under no circumstances be tolerated. Cusack, you and Chandler are to remain here," the king barked as Zeldris's tutor also made to leave. Zeldris frowned, hardly understanding the command. If anyone would be well placed to fetch Meliodas home, it was Chandler. But it was not his place to question the king.

Zeldris moved as swiftly as he darted out of the throne room. Once on the other side of the doors, he quickened his pace to an undignified trot, pelting through the corridors and so down to the basement where the man he needed to see was being held prisoner.

Without ceremony, he disintegrated the barrier erected to keep the danger at bay. Even his father had his doubts about this individual but Zeldris knew with certainty, whatever sin he was about to commit, that in this moment he had nothing to fear.

"Good morning, or is it good afternoon?" Gowther asked kindy as he turned his chair to face the new arrival, his hands deftly controlling the wheels of his seat. "I lose track down here. But news of your brother's latest act has reached even my ears. Since you are apparently unaffected by my Commandment, I presume you are not here to exact any sort of revenge?"

"No. I just want to bring him back here, and fast." Zeldris rested his hands on his hips as Gowther's mouth twisted to a smile. "Now here is the plan, and you are going to tell me what I need to do to make this work."

"Will I now?" Gowther murmured, then he smiled, placing his hands out, palms upright. "I dare say I could be persuaded, if I am sure of your motive," he confirmed as he gestured to a chair placed opposite his own. "I can only advice that you start at the beginning."


	5. Chapter 5

"I want everyone back here in four hours."

Zeldris glared around the Commandments and generals, pressing his lips together with dissatisfaction. Derieri and Monspeet looked ready to go, their dark eyes hard with a swirling rage, and Fraudrin was practically bouncing on the balls of his over-large feet. But the others could not have looked more bored. Melascyla was twirling her long hair through her hands, the strands of pink running like ribbons around her fingers, as Galand chuckled to himself, the sound reverberating around in his armour. Some crack squad these were supposed to be.

"This'll never work," Melascyla said lazily, flicking an imaginary speck of dirt from her nails. "No one's ever got to the goddess' gate before and, no offence, we've lost our commander, and Aranak and Zeno…"

"This will work, and you will do as you are told." Zeldris stared directly into his new colleague's eyes, sensing the flickering movement in their depths. "And you would do well to remember your place. You are here to obey orders, not question them." With that, Zeldris let forth a bolt of power, substantial enough to fell the mountain that stood behind them, the ocre rocks common in the demon realm crumbling to yellow dust to scatter on the wind. The air was filled with the stench of sulphur, but Zeldris did not care. He watched as the others choked, spluttering as their eyes went wide, one and all surveying the destruction before them.

"You will all of you do exactly as I say. Do I make myself plain?"

The nods he received could almost have been choreographed. Zeldris relaxed his shoulders, though his insides were still in an uproar, and he had to work hard not to respond to the splash of bile in his throat. If this went wrong, it was all over. He had written to Gelda, trying his best to explain the situation, and had received only a few scrawled words in reply. _Be quick. Treason planned._ He swallowed hard, failing to quell the fear that gripped him like a vice. As he had suspected, Izraf was planning some sort of mutiny. If left unchecked this would bring about the vampires' death.

What rankled most was that Meliodas must have been planning this for a while. Zeldris had sent out spies to Stigma's headquarters as soon he had fixed the plan up with Gowther, knowing he needed to get the lie of the land. The reports had come back with almost gleeful news about how close Meliodas seemed to be to his new friends, how he and the fairy and giant kings were on the best of terms. Such relationships had not materialised overnight.

Gritting his teeth at the rank injustice, Zeldris barked, "Leave. Now. And do not come back until you have accomplished your mission. This war ends _today_. If you capture the traitor, bring him back unharmed. If you cannot do so, inflict as much damage as required to subdue him. The one to retrieve him will receive a bonus."

The air was filled with the rustle of wings as the demons around him shot up to the sky, soaring to Britannia to enact Gowther's plan. A group were to distract the archangels, engaging them in battle at the edge of the fairy king's forest, while Gowther's doll and Melascyla took over the gate, casting their magic so that the entire demon army could pour into the Celestial Realm. He had not told Gowther of his own tentative plans, which had hardened to certainty the more he heard about his brother's activities. As he listened to tales of songs by the fire, of his brother's arms draped casually around a silver-haired goddess slut, any admiration he has ever felt for the shit had coalesced into a sludge of hate. He was supposed to be getting married and, because of the traitor, he was instead organising a war, Gelda's life hanging in the balance as her father plotted treason.

With a shake of the head, Zeldris summoned his darkness to build wings over his back, the membranes of the substance catching in the wind. He took off at a rush, gliding over the barren rocks and so up to Britannia, shielding his eyes against the sudden glare. Everything was fresh, vibrant, the cold breeze ruffling his hair and freezing the inside of his ears.

It was not long before he found the village he was looking for. His scouts had informed him of the humans who had taken pity on one of their own, nursing the injured demon back to health. Stigma had objected to such an act of war from a bunch of puny ants with no power to speak of and had executed a brutal revenge. The houses were smashed, stones and the straw of thatched roofs spread out over the grass, a child's broken doll crushed into the dirt. Zeldris smiled to himself as he spotted a few human survivors huddled round a small fire, their hands grasping everyday objects to be used as weapons: shovels, pitchforks, even a rusty old hoe.

The group looked up sharply as he swooped overhead, casting the men into shadow. The tallest rose, his sky blue hair gleaming silver in the sunlight, his body tense and ready to spring. Zeldris alighted right next to him, holding up his hands in a gesture of greeting.

"Do not fear, I have not come to visit any more harm upon you. I know you have suffered in the defence of my brethren. As the demon king's son I am here to reward you, to repay you for all you have suffered." Zeldris snapped his fingers, tendrils of darkness snaking from them, winding over the earth into a nearby copse. A squeal pulsed from the trees, and some of the men covered their ears as the darkness retracted into Zeldris's form, dragging a dusk bison out from the wood. "This is just the start," he declared as the human beside him quickly descended on the struggling beast, slitting its throat faster than thinking.

Zeldris watched with fascination as they processed their kill. The humans were remarkably efficient, skinning the carcass, some scraping the leather clean so that it could be washed and slicing muscle free from bone. Even the tendons were saved, the long strings washed with water drawn from the nearby well and left in the sun to dry. The demon knew from his studies that the men would use this material to tie axes to their handles and to catch fish in the rivers. Soon, the smell of roasting meat wafted through the breeze, the tall man pulling out from herbs and spices from his pockets to season the meal.

"And what do you want from us?" The leader rounded on him, crimson eyes narrowed. Zeldris returned his stare, unperturbed, and he found himself impressed that the man did not turn away. "Don't pretend this is charity. I know your kind, you never give anything away for free."

"Not an unfair observation," Zeldris admitted, "but this is to your advantage as much as mine. I know where Stigma have their headquarters." All the men looked at him as he made this remark, and he could feel their hatred as if it burned the air.

Zeldris glanced around, allowing himself a slight smirk. "Well, shall I tell you? I'll wager before I arrived you were all talk about how you would crush Stigma's scum. Is that not so?" Some of the younger humans looked down, their cheeks flushing red. "They are in the fairy king's forest. It is hidden to your kind but I will lead you there if you wish. Then you may do whatever you please."

"I'm not sure about this, Rou," one of the young men warned.

"Peace!" The tall leader crossed his arms over his chest, glancing round at his men before turning to Zeldris. "And if we go there, demon, what's in it for us?"

"My kind are attacking the goddess clan today. If we are successful I promise you that you will be treated as allies. We will rebuild your village so you can rebuild your lives, enjoy decades of peace to live and to love. If you are attacked you can rely on us for assistance. Or you can carry on scraping out a meagre existence as war rages around you, nursing your wounds and wondering what might have been if you had been braver and taken your just revenge."

The one called Rou gave a gruesome leer, and he felt a surge of triumph to see the human had bought his arguments. "Alright then. Come on guys~" Zeldris watched with curiosity as every single man instantly sprang to their feet, shoulders tensed, hands gripping their makeshift weapons in earnest. Rou addressed them, his eyes blazing and hard. "Kill as many as you can. Whatever their race, whatever they say. If they fight for Stigma they will pay. We will have our revenge. Lead the way," Rou commanded, and Zeldris smiled in return.

The atmosphere was so sour Gelda could practically feel her mouth water. The royal vampires were lined up on the dais, surrounding their king as he sat still on the throne. The princess could feel Izraf's disgust directed towards their unexpected guest - the vampires were natural enemies of the goddess clan - but the words that left his mouth were dripping with honey.

"It is a pleasure you welcome you to Edinburgh, Lord Mael."

The archangel bowed, his long silver hair falling around him. "I too am delighted to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty," he said, and Gelda found herself relaxing unwillingly into the sound of his voice. It rang like liquid light, the sonorous tones filling the vast throne room with an unmistakable authority.

"I have to admit, I was a little surprised on being informed by my queen that you desired an audience. But then perhaps it was to be expected…" Gelda bit down hard on her lip, her face burning as Mael glanced up in her direction, his golden eyes seeming to see right through to her soul. "I am told that the demons do not keep their promises." Gelda sensed Ren shuffling uncomfortably as Mod and Orlondi fought to suppress cruel giggles. She allowed her eyes to drift to the floor, blinking rapidly in an effort to keep the tears pricking the back of her eyes at bay.

When Mael next spoke his voice was hard. "If you are to join our alliance you will need to provide us with surety of your absolute, total, unquestioning loyalty. Nothing less than complete surrender will suffice in the circumstances. You have aided our enemies, financed the slaughter of hundreds of my people. What can you possibly give us that will make up for your sins?"

"Gelda, tell Lord Mael everything about the princes."

The command fell like a whip across her back. She stared at her father, her hands twisting together uncontrollably as she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. "I… no!" she cried as she looked desperately from the vampire king to the archangel, both of whom glared at her in clear disapproval. "I can't," she begged, "I just can't."

"If it makes it any easier I do not need to hear about the eldest," replied Mael bitterly. "Against my better judgement he has been accepted into Stigma's ranks and, whatever I think of his dubious morals, I believe he has given us as much intelligence as he feels he is able to. The youngest though is an enigma, and his brother seems unwilling to give us information in that direction. Who is he? What drives him? What is he planning?" Mael demanded, his eyes squarely on Gelda. "If anyone knows then you do. Tell me, and my kin will be pleased to offer you allegiance."

"No!" Gelda took a step back as Mael leaned slightly forwards. Her hands moved involuntarily to clasp at her necklace, the pendant of which concealed Zeldris's last message to her. She was just thinking how next to respond when she felt her arms twisted hard behind her back, and she cried out as Orlondi pulled the chain she wore from around her neck, feeling the sting as the delicate chain broke against her skin. Orlondi grinned at her, then passed the locket to Izraf, who gave a pleased huff as he proceeded to open it.

"Lord Mael, this is a letter from the person in question. It is not deeply specific, but there is a hint as to the demons' next planned attack. I trust this will be enough for your purposes? No," Izraf warned, his fingers closing tight around the letter as the archangel reached out. "I need to hear your assurance first."

"Very well," Mael said loftily. Izraf nodded then proffered up the folded parchment as tears spilled down Gelda's cheeks. Mael read through the contents, his face darkening as his jawline grew tense. "I must go now. I will return to complete these negotiations." Before Izraf could do more than bark an objection, the archangel had bowed stiffly and strode from the room, his footsteps echoing as he made his way out of the palace.

"Orlondi, Ren, escort princess Gelda to her quarters," Izraf commanded as his hands that rested on the arms of the throne balled into fists. "See to it that she cannot use her magic to escape."

Gelda summoned her power in an instant, the temperature rising as fire glowed in her hands. "Stop her!" Izraf yelled. Gelda screamed as Ganne thundered towards her, crushing her arms to her sides with his huge hands, extinguishing the flames she had called to her aid. Mod followed close on his brother's heels, wrapping lengths of rope around Gelda as she struggled in vain against the tight bonds.

"That ought to hold her," Mod said with a grin. Gelda aimed a kick in his direction, but stopped sharp as she felt the edge of a blade on her neck, looking down to see the pearly sheen of Ren's sharpened claw pressed right against her.

"He'll write to her again," Izraf said confidently as he glowered at his daughter. "Make sure she communicates with no one and intercept any messages that are sent to her from the outside. We will make the demons pay - every single last one of them - even if that means helping the goddess scum. Take her away," Izraf boomed. Seeing there was no persuading him, Gelda went silently, praying that Zeldris would somehow know what was happening, and knowing full well that there was no way he could.

"Utter failure!" the demon king bellowed as Zeldris stood stoically before him. "How could you have put your trust in that mage? How could you not have known he would betray us all?"

Zeldris grit his teeth. Truth be told he had asked himself the same question at least eighteen times as he had reluctantly returned to make his report. On being told by Melascyla of the doll's betrayal, of the way Gowther had manipulated the gate so that it released his master for jail rather than transport the demon army into the goddess' stronghold, it had felt as if scales had fallen from his eyes. He should have realised the mage was so keen to aid his endeavours only because he had a motive of his own. In part, Zeldris understood; after being incarcerated for so many centuries, the pull of freedom must have been almost unbearable.

"It was not a total failure," intoned Zeldris. "The kings Gloxinia and Drole are now our allies. At their request I have furnished them with Commandments. They are strong and powerful, worthy replacements for our fallen brethren, and their loss will grievously affect our enemies. The fairy king's forest has also been attacked. Many of the fairies are dead at the hands of rebel humans. The trust Stigma is built on will crumble to dust."

"Be that as it may, your objective has failed!" The king banged his gauntleted hand down hard on the arm of his throne, the sound reverberating through the room like thunder. "The traitor is still at large, the archangels are unharmed, and the goddesses have destroyed thousands of our kin while you looked on and did nothing!" Zeldris swallowed hard, but made himself return the king's stare, forcing himself not to show the way pain and rage swirled within him.

After several long moments, the king snarled, "If you have nothing to say of your failure on the battlefield, then perhaps you would care to know how I have deemed you will expiate your transgression." Zeldris shifted, his stomach curdling as he saw a rare smile spread over the king's face. "It will interest you to know, I am sure, that the vampires _you_ have been so keen to befriend have received the archangel Mael as a visitor, clearly with the intent of forming an alliance."

Zeldris just managed to suppress the groan that rumbled in the back of his throat. "I see it is no surprise to you," his father growled. "Then you will have anticipated my next instruction. You will deal justice on our former allies. I want them annihilated! Make no exceptions: you are to destroy every single last one of them. Leave no trace of them upon this earth."

The pit of Zeldris's stomach fell to his boots. "Do not even think of trying to dissuade me." The demon king sat forward, his power blooming around him. "You carry part of my power. I can sense your emotions. If you are foolish enough to try and deceive me, know that I will be able to tell in an instant. Now go! And this time, do not dare to return to me unless you have completed your task, to the letter. You have left enough failure in your wake for one lifetime. Because of your ineptitude, I now have to deal with your traitorous brother myself. Do not force me to make you share his fate."

Blanching slightly, Zeldris gave a stiff bow, not trusting himself to speak as he sped from the room.


	6. Chapter 6

It was cold, grey clouds rolling like waves across the pewter sky. Zeldris took deep breaths of the chilled air, trying to chase the feeling of panic that made his hearts race and his stomach clench into knots, but the rush of the wind as it battered against his body stirred his blood, and he felt his breathing quicken involuntarily. Anxiety was an emotion he had little experience of dealing with, and he found he did not like it one little bit.

He wanted to run, to fly far, far away, to do _anything_ but harm the woman he loved. He swallowed hard as images of Gelda were seared into his brain. He could see her sliced through with his sword, blood pooling on the primrose silk draped over her form and running down this blade like crimson paint. He could practically smell the vampires' fear, hear their cries of anguish, taste the iron tang on the breeze. Leaning over sharply Zeldris spat bile into the grass, closing his eyes tight; there was no way he could fulfil his father's command.

But if he refused…

Rubbing his face Zeldris looked towards the sky, feeling a cool mist dust over his skin. The rain was light, barely making an impression on the lands that surrounded him though the bracken bent under the press of the wind. He had to stop stalling, to act, and act fast. If he failed his mission, another more sadistic would take it. Perhaps even the king would take matters into his own hands.

That thought got him moving. With quick strides, Zeldris made his way towards the golden edifice of Edinburgh Castle, his feet practically gliding over the undulating ground. The light drizzle grew increasingly intense, droplets coalescing together before pelting down from the sky, first as light summer rain then a serious shower. Sheets of water swept downwards, soaking the ground, puddles of it seeping around the edges of his boots as he trudged onwards. He relished the discomfort, willing the rain to lash him like a whip; he deserved nothing but pain for the sin he was about to commit.

 _I love you._

The memory of her words and her soft smile, pointed fangs peeking through, made him pull up short. He stood, face tilted towards the sky, brain working like fury and water running in rivers down his face as he tried and failed to come up with a solution. Frustration took hold as he dismissed one plan after another, but nothing seemed to stick and the urgency of the situation pressed down upon him until it was impossible to think.

It took him a while to register that he was screaming to the heavens, his fists balled so tightly it was painful to release his fingers from their grip. If Drole and Gloxinia could have seen him now, no doubt they would regret their decision to join the demons, to accept the Commandments which bound their souls to that of the king. In fact, if he had not been able to seal the giant king's magic, Drole would most likely not have made the switch.

Zeldris stood frozen, his mind working in a frenzy, the air leaving his lungs in a sigh as he settled on the answer. As long as he was thorough there would be nothing to fear. He trudged on, picking up his pace as the wet began to soak through to his skin, and he shivered in the ice of the wind. He could barely see in front of him, the landscape blurred to dull greens and greys and the odd flash of mustard, but still he knew the way. He could feel Gelda's power calling to him, the warmth welcome as it ran through his form, and he sent out his own signature in response, trying to tell her what he was about to do, to provide her with some comfort. He didn't care that the others of her family would notice; he wanted the vampires to know he was coming. That way they would all be in the same place and easier to deal with.

 _I love you._

Pressing on against the downpour he found himself outside Edinburgh castle, the golden stone and chromatic glass of the windows faded in the low, grey light. He was not surprised to see them waiting for him, the gate of the castle lowered to show the vampires sheltering within. His eyes ran over the mass of their king, the smaller forms of Orlondi and Ren until he found the one he sought. He swallowed hard as violet eyes met his own, wide and shining with unshed tears.

As Izarf strode forward, the others followed in his wake, Gelda stepping gracefully along beside them. He did not take her gaze from her as they converged on him, no doubt with faces dark and leering. He did not care. This would be the last time he would see the woman he loved, who he adored with every fibre of his being, for who knew how many long, lonely years, and he was going to commit every aspect of her to memory. He willed the way she moved to be locked into his brain, the shine of her golden hair, the way her neat braid swung a little as she walked, the delicate blush on her porcelain skin. It was all he could do to hold back, to stay standing still and he fought the urge to run into her arms.

If he was to avoid a confrontation he would need to move now. Before the vampires reached him, the words of the spell rasped like metal on the breeze as he shouted over the battering wind and the incessant patter of the driving rain. Power bloomed through him, pulsing and twisting, but Zeldris ignored it as a mulberry gauze spread from his fingertips to build a dome over his supposed foes, locking them away from the outside world. The material shimmered, shifting and spreading an eerie light over the hills. He saw none of it, his eyes locked on Gelda as her face softened with her smile.

 _I love you. I will come back for you._

Her lips moved, the rose bud twisting and stretching, but could not hear her voice, could not make out what her last words to him were. Her hand pressed against her cage, fingertips splaying slightly against the lavender haze. He stepped towards her, fighting back tears but managing to hold eye contact until her smile broadened and he could see the forgiveness etched on her face. A sudden pang of disgust made him to drop his gaze to the floor, breathing hard, the grass around his black boots bending under the force of the weather. Letting go a shuddering breath, he murmured the final phrase of the spell, the howl of the wind muted by a loud crackle and hiss as the dome collapsed in on itself, pulling the vampires within into the depths of the earth, away from war, from disease, safe even from time itself. They would rest there between waking and sleeping until he came to release them from the seal.

"I love you!"

He screamed, damp eyes snapping upwards to where Gelda had moments ago stood before him. But there was nothing there, only the sodden land dotted with the deep greens of bracken and heather, tiny purple tips adorning the spiked stems, a slight depression in the leaves where Gelda's feet had once been. The pain was unbearable, consuming his soul as warm tears ran to mingle with the cold rain.

"I love you, and I will win this war," he yelled to the sky, determination firing through him as his hands clenched at his sides.

The pain in his arm was nothing, barely even noticeable over the fury, the shame, the utter humiliation at being subdued so damn easily. Zeldris struggled against the hand that gripped at him almost lazily, pressing his arm into his back, twisting it until his weapon he held fell with a clang to the stone flagons. Teeth grinding together, he pulled hard, aiming a kick at his brother's shins. Meliodas had, after thousands of years, just strolled into the kingdom _he_ had subjugated and in a few seconds flat knocked both him and Estarossa to the floor. The traitor looked more like his old self compared to the last time Zeldris had clapped eyes on him, power pulsing from his form and cold face set like stone. There was no hesitation in his brother's movements, no sign of wavering; it was as if he knew their father had said the little shit could just walk straight back to his birthright, no questions asked.

The black pit that was Edinburgh rose up before him, engulfing him in desolation and rage. He snarled, tugging with all his might in a bid for freedom, bile splashing the back of his throat as his brother leaned towards him, shivering as the traitor's warm breath ghosted over his skin.

"Gelda is alive."

Zeldris stilled in an instant, muscles taut. It had to be a lie. Meliodas always had played fast and loose with the truth; this was merely another of his tricks. Readying himself for a renewed attack, Zeldris angled his body so that he could flip backwards and kick the damn shit in his odious face, whatever the strength of the grip pinning his arm to the small of his back. He had thought of little else since he had seen the tear in the ground, the dark nothing where Edinburgh Castle had once stood, where he had secured the woman he loved so that she would come to no harm. Somehow, the traitor had found her and killed her and whatever happened next he would have his revenge.

"I re-sealed her," Meliodas whispered, Zeldris straining to catch the barely-there words. "She is waiting for you."

"Lies!" Zeldris snapped.

Meliodas chuckled, cutting off his retort. "She asked me to kill her," he said lazily, Zeldris's hair standing up on the back of his neck. "Such loyalty! She did not want to go on without you."

Throat closing up, Zeldris shut his eyes, taking careful sips of the air to try and quell the rush of emotion. It was almost unbearable. Gelda alive, so distraught she had asked for death at the hands of his own brother. He swallowed hard as his mouth watered uncontrollably even as his hearts pounded like drums and he struggled to breathe. She was alive, maybe even within his reach. He bit his lip hard, the tang of iron coating his tongue. She was alive and he loved her.

"Help me become demon king and I will take you to her. You can both be free," Melidoas coaxed, his voice soft as feathers. "No more sacrifice, no more duty. I will release you from your service. You and the princess can live exactly as you please."

"Why should I believe you?" Zeldris hissed, his voice little more than a wisp on the wind.

"Because you want to." Zeldris's arm dropped to his side, blood gushing once more through the veins leaving little trails of sparks, and he quickly clenched and unclenched his fingers to regain control of his limb. "I know you, remember? You are also loyal, to a fault. Do precisely as I ask and that loyalty will be rewarded."

The world shifted. The ache he had carried since sealing his love adjusted itself, morphing to a duller throb. His surroundings pulled back into focus, the pale face of his tutor, the cracked stones on the floor, the wide, glowing eyes of the shining goddess who had caused all the problems. He sucked in a breath as she shot his brother a sharp look, one that radiated a concern and tenderness Meliodas did not deserve.

"You will see her again, I promise," murmured the prince and Zeldris relented, his body almost collapsing as the tension peeled away. He had no choice: if there was the slightest possibility Gelda could be restored to him, he had to take it, even if the chance of success was little more than a fool's forlorn hope.

"I… am trusting you on that," he muttered reluctantly, turning to meet his brother's pitch black eyes as Meliodas folded his arms across his chest.


End file.
